Could you be a Cougar??

Cougar, its a term most of us know these days. One of those colloquialisms developed in society to label something which previously has either been indefinable or simply did not exist.

So what is a cougar??

Well simply put it is any woman who pursues the attentions of considerably younger men rather than those her own age. Usually a minimum of 7 years younger is required for the age gap to fall into the cougar status. I have always dated slightly younger men, mainly due to the fact that i do not look my age and can get away with it but i have never yet reached the requirements that would fit me into this cougar category. 

But could i be one?? Well this morning i admit i had rather a giggle as logging onto a diet and fitness forum i belong to i had a message alerting me to updates on threads i had replied to. Skimming the first two serious and advisory ones i picked up a few tips and added a further comment of my own. Now the third thread was entirely different and was infact a game entitled..do you think the person above is attractive. I had happily joined in the previous evening commenting that the girl at the bottom of the list was, despite being rather overweight, a very pretty girl. Considerably more entries had been added since mine and i skipped through them reading the comments and then rather absently flicked backwards looking for mine. In truth i had expected my comment to be from a girl since the boy/girl ratio was very much in the female favor but NO!!

’43?? I would do her!!’

Yes this was my comment and the commenter was…..a young lad that looked about 18! I actually choked on my coffee caught between exclamation, a giggle and the desire to swallow the contents of my mouth. The result was a spray of coffee upon my laptop followed by a mad coughing fit. Now i say this boy looked 18 he could well have been older but it would not have been much and i certainly wasn’t going to be seen checking his profile for fear of giving the wrong idea. But the comment set me thinking, could i really be a cougar?? It is not the first time i have had favourable looks from considerably younger guys infact very far from it and yes if i am honest i could have more than once dated far younger guys but yet i have not.

WHY?? 

Is it not every womans dream to be seen with some young fit looking guy rather than the frequently less so older men of their own acquaintance? Would women rather wake up to some smooth tanned body rather than the slightly wrinkling version she is expected to date? Perhaps, i know many women would jump at the chance to date a younger  man, seeking maybe to hold on to their own youth in the process but strangely i do not find this appealing and in truth would feel decidedly uncomfortable waking up with a boy in my bed.Romantic moment as he leans over and whispers ”Darling i love the way the sunlight dances across your wrinkles in a morning” It has to be noted that i consider any  guy under 28 to be in the category of boy more in reference to my own age although i own they would not thank me for it. As odd as it may seem i do not really look at much younger guys and even in the cases of movie stars i remain curiously unmoved. A friend recently asked me to go and see Magic Mike with her at the cinema which for those who do not know is about male strippers. As she drooled over the bronzed muscles of the male leads i found myself looking rather dispassionately at the picture for it did not appeal to me at all and i happily declined. 

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Give me Colin Firth or Kiefer Sutherland and you will happily see me melt (curiously so for both are older than i) for i prefer men who look like men and cannot see the appeal in those so much younger whom to me are just boys. It seems as i have aged my taste in men has aged with me and though i would happily date a guy a few years younger than myself i confess i am not the cougar type and have a line firmly drawn with regards to age. So whilst i may blush furiously at the comment left in regards to me i have to confess that where he would, i definitely would not. 

Could i be a cougar?? No after much thought i confess not but am i alone in this? Could you?

If you want something doing…..

As the mother of two mid and late teens you would think life would be pretty easy right? All those extra hands to share the chores, a cup of coffee made for me when i am studying or extra busy?

WRONG!!!

These two delightful offspring of mine barely know one end of a duster from the other and never would it occur to them to lend a hand. My son, the elder of the two, will do something for me if i ask but at 19 and Autistic the degree of effort depends on how quick a chore it is and how boring he considers it to be. Dear son has sarcastic grumbling under his breath down to such a fine art that we nicknamed him Victor Meldrew!!

Dear daughter number 2, the youngest at 16, is very reluctant to do anything unless the question of remuneration should arise. If i come home and she has voluntarily done chores i am instantly on my guard since i can pretty much guarantee that some request for funds will follow in the near future. Welcome to Bank of Panda..please insert your card!!

I have pondered the fact that is my own fault for being so exacting, for i tend to be rather fussy and if something isnt done perfectly i tend to go and do it myself, i hate mess it drives me crazy. It is a long running joke in our family that when someone claims something is clean the retort is always

”Would that be your kind of clean, or my kind of clean??” 

So today as a strange yellow thing was shining in the sky i asked Dear Son to cut the front grass for me since we were in danger of being listed as a local nature reserve and the resulting sigh from upstairs should have easily shaken the rafters. My excellent hearing picked up the muttered grumble which preceded a delayed emergence from its source. To his credit Dear Son did actually cut the grass although the result looked rather like it had been chewed by a herd of Wildebeest. As he plodded back into the house a trail of grass followed prompting me to go outside and look. Grass everywhere!! From my front door to the bottom of my driveway looked like a grass bomb had exploded, a far cry from the immaculate frontages of the neighbouring houses. 

To say Dear Son was most unimpressed when i asked him to go outside and sweep it up was an understatement and watching his half hearted effort prompted me to open the door and say

”SWEEP it dont tickle it”

”I AM sweeping it!!”

Hmmmmm. Yes again fussy me took over and i took the brush, rapidly sweeping the pathway to the door informing very impatient son that THIS is how you sweep. Back in the house i noticed yet again half hearted sweeping and called for Dear Daughter 2 to assist her brother. Well have you ever seen a fairy sweep a garden?? Picture one and you have the right idea. Tiptoeing carefully around the grass with brush held delicately between fingertips she flitted around managing little better than Victor Meldrew who was at this point rolling his eyes and tutting. 

Cue Panda impatience and brush was whipped from Fairy fingers and rapid sweeping of the drive was undertaken with the announcement to said children that there was this strange thing called EFFORT required. 5 minutes later MY eyes were rolling as i sighed and swept it up myself before retreating into the house for coffee leaving grumpy and fairy to bin the pile of rubbish i’d made. Surely they could manage THAT!!

I have rapidly come to the conclusion that for the most part if you want something doing in my house it is far better to do it yourself unless you are prepared to live with less than perfect results. I dread to think how these little darlings will live when they leave home and i have already informed them that i will most definitely not be coming to their houses for tea until i reach the point where i am considering euthanasia and need a quick exit from this world. 

Ahhh well i made my bed i guess i have to lie in it, perhaps i should have been far stricter when they were small and set a regimen of chores such i had myself when i was young. Logic tells me that even had i done so this would all have gone out of the window when my little angels mutated into carnage evoking teen demons so perhaps i can console myself with this. So as fairy skips off down the street and Victor retreats to the safety of his room and the computer games within, i make my own coffee and comfort myself with the smug knowledge that one day they will be parents to teens of their own and mommy will sit and have a little chuckle. Revenge will be very sweet!! 

Perhaps i should feel mean but i dont!!

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Evening is rolling in and i’m sitting trying to study, my stomach is growling to be fed but im determined to finish this section before i set my work aside. Perhaps it is a heavy workload but i am studying Business and Admin and also taking a Proof Reading and Editorial course, the latter of which occupies my attention and is rather complicated. 

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!

This is my front door knocker being hammered against the door with force enough to make it shake upon its hinges. I do not need to answer the door to know who it is for i can hear a very loud bullmoose voice bellowing outside but i am busy working so i choose not to answer. 

”There’s nobody in”

Footsteps fade and i sigh and continue my work and have read no more than five lines when..

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!

The bullmoose voice is back and is nothing if not persistent. My eyebrows raise as i hear the letter box open and the voice, louder now as the person looks through my letter box to see if i am home. GO AWAY!! i think furiously, although conscience niggles that perhaps i am being mean. 

BANG BANG BANG BANG (door kick) BANG BANG

Yes you can bet for sure i am rather annoyed now as i reread the same sentence for the third time. So who is hammering so furiously upon my door? Ah well this is easy it is the child next door.

At first i would always answer when this child kicked his ball over my back fence for i have children and my own when small have mistakenly kicked their ball into a neighbours garden before now. Rather differently i would never let them knock on the door to ask for it back but instead told them that if they had been careless enough to let it go over then they would have to wait until the person chose to throw it back , if they even did. 

But nevertheless i would at first answer to this child and obligingly retrieve the ball from my garden which received neither apology nor thanks. Shortly after the ball would come sailing back over the fence and the hammering on the door would commence with a loud request to get the ball back. This child does not have a volume switch, actually he does but it consists of loud and very loud and of an evening i have to close my door and windows in order to hear my tv but i try and remind myself that he is after all a child.

After repeated retrievings of the ball i began to get rather fed up especially since my garden has been very waterlogged for some weeks now and sploshing around in it for a ball is not my idea of fun and i politely asked him not to kick it over and informed him that if he did it would have to stay there until i went outside for something. 

BANG BANG BANG BANG KICK KICK BANG (letterbox opens again)

I know, i know perhaps the easy way would be to go and fetch the ball and thereby cease the kicking and hammering at my door but irritation is prompting me to throw the door wide and bellow ‘ STOP kicking that bl@@dy door’   I may think it but i would not do this and i try my best to ignore it. Footsteps fade again and the child takes up residence upon my driveway with friend in tow kicking another football back and forth thumping it repeatedly against my garage door and house wall. Sometimes i wish i were not so nice natured for i should dearly love to shout as neighbours would have had i behaved so when small and rightly so. 

After six attempts to hammer my door down coupled with frequent peering through my letter box there is finally silence as it seems for now at least he has given up. Of course i will return the ball when i or one of the family does go outside i am not so mean as all that but if i should feel guilty for not answering my door and fetching it when he wished then i’m afraid i do not. I was always taught manners and respect cost nothing even from a very young age and had i hammered on our neighbours doors in that way when i was small you can guarantee i would have felt my mothers hand and further been hauled next door to apologise. 

So do i feel mean?? NO!!